


Falling at your feet

by idioticfangirl



Category: The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Getting Together, I don't know how the american education system works but he's in college I think, Light Angst, M/M, Minor Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-21
Updated: 2015-12-21
Packaged: 2018-04-16 11:01:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4622877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idioticfangirl/pseuds/idioticfangirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Starting at a new school is hard enough at the best of times, so how much harder is it when everyone hates the school you came from? Or when you're trying to make the most popular guy in school (literally) fall for you?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First impressions are everything

How Thomas had chosen to go to The Glade College when there were other, closer ones was beyond him. All he knew was that he had to get away from his old high school, nicknamed WICKED by those who didn't go to it (a group he was now apparently a part of), even if that included Teresa, his best friend. Ex-best friend, now. And also that if anyone found out that he used to go there, he was as good as dead.

It wasn't a 'friendly' rivalry between the two complexes, as the professors tried to pretend when inspectors came round and they realized the extent of the hatred could - and probably would - be seen as unhealthy for the students. It was a full-on, don't come near me if you want to keep your balls, sort of rivalry. Both schools were full of astonishingly clever students, the best in their year for the whole of the US, so much so that people would come from all over the country to get to one of them. The Glade had started when students who were kicked out of WICKED had protested that they were still much smarter than those in the other colleges near them, and if they were going to have to go there they might as well not go to school.

Thomas figured that The Glade had the right idea, better than WICKED, who were all about tests and pushing students past their limits. The Glade had a better community, as shown by the fact that Thomas already knew the names of as many people here as he did at WICKED, and freshman orientation hadn't even started yet. Chuck, a boy a year younger than him at least who had been bumped up a year, had eagerly introduced himself the second Thomas walked in, and was now sitting next to him whispering comments about everybody.

The murmurs heard from around the room died down when two people walked onto the stage. One was a dark skinned boy, with hair cropped short and a scowl that came so naturally it was probably permanent, whilst the other was white, with blonde hair that went past his ears and a grin that seemed cheerful, if slightly forced. The first introduced himself as Alby, and the second as Newt. After a few words on how things were run at the school they introduced someone else onto the stage, calling them 'Minho'.

Minho was Asian, with short black hair and - which Thomas cursed himself for noticing right away - strong arms. He was handsome, and athletic, and the type of guy that Thomas had no chance with, not that that would stop him. 

Thomas' staring session was cut short as, with a bang and a muted yelp, Minho hit the floor face first. Thomas hadn't even seen him trip. The tension that had been building in the anticipatory 'Greenies' about a whole new school life was released as a burst of laughter swept the room, with even Newt struggling to keep the grin on his face from getting wider. 

The laughter stopped when Minho got back up and made his way to the podium, glaring at anyone who so much as breathed loudly. Thomas ducked his gaze so he couldn't be singled out, and spent the rest of the orientation in a happy blur as he replayed the moment in his mind.

 

Thomas had chemistry first, and then biology, and then lunch. Despite his fears of being found out as an ex-WICKED student, chemistry went well. It gave him high hopes for biology.

The first thing he did upon entering the room was walk into someone's chest so hard that he was knocked to the ground.

The second thing he did was look up and say, "Oh! You're the guy that fell over on stage!" because he was an idiot whose social skills and self preservation left much to be desired. Speaking of desire, Minho was glaring down at him in a way that would have been so hot if Thomas didn't get the feeling that everyone in the immediate vicinity was going to be murdered horrifically, and he in particular was going to be squashed like a bug.

"I mean," he hastened to cover up his fatal mistake, "Minho, right?" He held up a hand to shake it, before remembering that he was still on the floor. Minho grabbed it, pulling him up with such ease that Thomas flew a few inches into the air before coming down on his feet, looking at Thomas as though it was below him to even acknowledge his existence before nodding curtly and walked out, Thomas' gaze on his back (and butt) the whole time.

 

After a lesson which thankfully held no more embarrassing moments for him, Thomas went to the field for lunch. He and Chuck were quite happily eating their sandwiches when a ball flew out of the air and hit him in the back of the head, with enough force to slam his head into his knee.

"What the fuck?" he yelped, gingerly touching his nose to ensure that it wasn't bleeding or broken, reaching behind him to grab the ball just as someone jogged over to pick it up. He twisted to see that it was Minho, looking completely unapologetic and rather bored, more interested in getting back to his game than the fact that he could have seriously injured Thomas.

"It hit me!" Thomas complained, wincing at how much he sounded like a six year old.

"I know. I was aiming for you, therefore it hit you. I'm just that good."

Thomas moved his hand out the way, childishly, as Minho reached once more for the ball.

"Considering you can't keep your balance for long enough to walk to the podium, I doubt you're particularly good at running with a ball at your feet," he shot back, "what happened, did you trip over the ball?"

Unfortunately for Thomas, the first time Minho lunged at him it was from anger rather than lust or desire. Fortunately for Thomas, he had stalled for long enough for three more soccer players to come over to see what was taking so long, and two of them - whom he recognised as Newt and Alby - held Minho back, although the third cheered him on quite unhelpfully.

"What happened, does the greenie want to show off his skills?" The third player sneered.

"Leave it, Gally," muttered Minho, who had calmed down enough for Newt and Alby to have released him, although they stayed close in case they were needed again, "let's just go."

"No, actually, I'll play!" Thomas volunteered suddenly, thinking of nothing but his desire to prove to Gally that he could give as good as he got, and definitely not thinking of his personal safety at all. Despite Newt and Alby's worried looks, Thomas jumped up and followed them onto the soccer pitch, ignoring Gally's contempt.

What none of them knew was that WICKED's soccer team was the only one that consistently did well against The Gladers. And that Thomas had been part of that team for the entirety of his high school career.

It took some time for Thomas to get the ball, considering his teammates refused to pass the ball to him and instead acted like he didn't exist, but once he eventually tackled 'Frypan' and won the ball off him, he was set. In thirty seconds he had created and scored a goal without any help from his teammates, quite a feat considering he got the ball on the halfway line. From then on, a newfound tentative respect for him meant that his teammates quite readily passed the ball, and most of the considerably large amount of goals scored by Thomas' team were either scored or set up by him.

It was going well, and Thomas was daydreaming about being a jock for once, when Gally stopped, looking at him with dawning recognition in his eyes.

"I know you," he hissed, "you're from WICKED. You were on their team. I broke your foot once." Thomas frowned as he realised that it had, in fact, been Gally who had crushed his foot in a highly illegal tackle, leaving them both unable to play for months due to injury and suspension respectfully. "This time I think I'll break something else. How about your pretty face?" Gally snickered, making a fist and pulling his arm back.

Thomas barely had the time to throw his hands in front of his face for protection when he felt it, and the world went white, and blue, and black.

 

It took some time for it to register in Thomas' sore head that he wasn't being kicked any more, and that the most recent sounds of a struggle hadn't been from him but someone else. He opened his eyes, regretting it instantly as the light only added to his headache, but fought to keep them open. Chuck was kneeling next to him, looking a before-unseen mixture of gleeful and pitying, which just made him look slightly constipated.

"Dude, you were awesome!" he whispered.

"I didn't do anything," Thomas slurred back.

"On the pitch! You'll make first team for sure!" Thomas was saved from replying by the appearance of Newt, Alby and Minho. Whilst Newt and Alby merely looked out of breath, Minho had blood dripping from his nose and lip, and the beginnings of a black eye.

"What happened?" Thomas croaked.

"You should see yourself. Or the other guy, I made sure he was in worse shape," Minho grimaced.

"Who -?"

"Gally," he answered shortly, and Thomas felt a burst of gratitude to the stranger who didn't like him but had got in a fistfight over him anyway.

"Come on, you're going to the medical room," Newt offered Thomas his arm, "you too, Minho, don't act like it doesn't hurt." Leaning heavily on Newt and Alby, Thomas limped across the field and through the corridors to the nurse, where he was left with Minho.

"Thanks," he muttered quietly.

"Anytime. Gally was pretty shit anyway, always getting into trouble. You're way better. You will play on the team, right? You have a claim for captain, I guess."

"Wha - yeah, and no. Not captain. I suck at leading and," he waved his hands in the air, or tried to but stopped when his shoulder twinged, "and stuff."

"So, fun first day, right?"

"You could say that."

"Does this mean that you're gonna stop making fun of me for falling over?"

Thomas let out a sharp back of laughter. "No. It does mean that I'm going to kiss you when my face is fixed, though." He paused, horrified at what he had just said, and was prepared to claim concussion and/or brain damage from Gally punching him when Minho just raised an eyebrow, amused.

"Well, you'd better get better soon then, hadn't you?"


	2. What can go wrong, will go wrong

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long to do!

A few days later, when Thomas was deemed well enough to go back to The Glade, he was something of a celebrity. After all, you had to be a special student to get involved in a jock soccer match and then a fight with one of the jocks all on your first day. And then to be saved by Minho, a school favourite? It was unheard of.

Despite the hero worship from the younger students and the nods that he got from his classmates, Thomas was smart enough to know that he wasn't safe. Gally's angry mutterings seemed to follow him around the school, with the man himself popping up whenever Thomas was alone and leaving Thomas to undignified jogs around campus to catch up with others who could offer him protection.

The seventh time that this happened, Thomas arrived in the middle of a conversation between Minho, Alby and Newt. He hadn't seen Minho since he had rescued him, since they had both been sent home for recovery until the school could work out how to punish them for fighting, and he still felt slightly self-conscious about what he had said. However, it wasn't Minho who spoke first, but Newt.

"You okay there, Tommy?" he asked, eyeing him.

"Yeah, I'm good," Thomas tried to nonchalantly check behind him for Gally, but Alby caught him and raised an eyebrow questioningly. "Gally keeps trying to get me alone," Thomas pretended not to notice the way that Minho's fists clenched, "so I figured I'd hang with you guys for a while."

"He'll get over it," Alby smiled reassuringly.

Newt continued. "But until he does, stick with us. He won't hurt you when you're with friends, isn't that right, Minho?" Minho grunted non-committally and didn't even bother making eye contact with Thomas, whose heart sunk like a stone.

 

True to their word, Newt and Alby were always there for Thomas. There was never a spare moment in school that he was alone, which was surprisingly easy to get used to. The one problem was that he never got to see Minho alone, either. Thomas had assumed that Minho would, like Newt and Alby, stay with him, and maybe even arrange it so that there was a time for just the two of them to get along with what they had wanted to do. But he was never there, always off with someone else, and Thomas couldn't help but feel betrayed.

Not only betrayed, but horribly embarrassed. Clearly Minho didn't like him, and was regretting playing along with Thomas' terrible flirting, but was too nice to say so. Every time he saw Minho, Thomas' heart rose, but immediately returned to its usual position as he had to remind himself that they weren't even friends, let alone anything more.

Because he always had a taste for making himself suffer, and a penchant for putting his foot in everything, when Thomas saw Minho walking home alone he immediately sprinted to catch up with him. He had seen Newt and Alby walking together, grinning and playfully poking each other, and decided that the two needed some alone time, which coincidentally was what he needed with Minho.

"Hey! Hey, Minho!" he called, but either Minho's music was too loud or he was ignoring Thomas, because he ignored his shouts. "Hey," Thomas finally caught up, putting a hand on Minho's shoulder to announce his arrival. Minho pulled out his headphones and turned, face twisting into an unreadable expression when he saw who it was.

"Hey," he muttered in a monotone voice.

"Where've you been, dude? I hardly ever see you!" Minho shrugged.

They walked in silence for a while, Minho managing to shut down all of Thomas' lines of conversation despite the fact that no-one had managed to stop him talking before, until Thomas was nearly bursting with the need to ask.

"About what happened in the medical room...." This was the first thing that had actually caught Minho's attention, as he swung round immediately to face Thomas, still silent.

It was the look on Minho's face that broke Thomas' nerve. He looked almost desperate, in a weird way, and slightly afraid of what Thomas was going to say. So Thomas sighed, throwing all ideas of kissing Minho right there out of his mind, and saying what he knew he needed to say. 

"We were both concussed, right? Neither of us were really thinking, so why don't we just forget about it?" Minho nodded, like that was what he expected all along, and Thomas fell back slightly, plugging in his headphones and telling himself that it had been the right thing today, however much of a lie it was.

 

If Thomas had had any hope that taking back his stupid actions would make Minho talk to him again (and he had, he'd had so much hope), it was immediately proved false. Instead, Minho almost seemed to ignore him more, if that was even possible, and began to actively avoid Thomas, darting into classrooms he had no need to be in as soon as Thomas walked towards him, and involving himself in a discussion with the teacher until Thomas got the message that he wasn't wanted.

Even on the soccer pitch, the one place where all rivalries were meant to go out of the window as they played in a team, Minho didn't acknowledge the existence of Thomas. He would be open, with a straight shot on goal, and Minho would pass to someone who inevitably didn't score because he wasn't in as good a position.

So Thomas did the only thing he could do, and cornered Minho in the changing rooms when everyone else had gone.

"What the fuck is your problem with me?" he rounded on Minho, advancing angrily even though he was about half the size at most, and therefore unable to intimidate him in any way.

"Nothing," Minho shrugged, all that he seemed to do where Thomas was involved.

"There's obviously something wrong! So what is it? What did I do?"

"What did you do?" And this was it. This was the point where Minho finally exploded. Thomas found himself looking for shelter. "What did you do? What you did was hit on me as a joke and then act like it was nothing! Like we hadn't nearly kissed! And then say that you didn't even mean it!"

"Wha-?" if Thomas had expected anything, it wasn't this. "You're mad because I hit on you?"

Minho made an obvious attempt to calm himself down. "I'm mad," deep breaths, "because you hit on me as a joke. Who the fuck does that?"

"I didn't - it wasn't - I thought it had made it awkward!"

"It did! Because you didn't mean it!"

"I meant it but then you started ignoring me and I figured you didn't mean it so I left it!"

"You...what?"

"I thought you didn't like me?"

And then Minho was moving forwards, spinning so that he had Thomas shoved against the wall, and saying, "Meet me at Pizza Express tomorrow at 6."

"You know," Thomas called after him, "that's the most aggressive way I've ever been asked on a date!"


End file.
